


Madness

by Madame_Klancealot



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Delinquent Keith (Voltron), Delinquent Lance (Voltron), Delinquents, Fluff and Angst, Gang Violence, Gangs, High School, Kissing, M/M, Rough Kissing, Very innocent bjs, some smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23025841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Klancealot/pseuds/Madame_Klancealot
Summary: Lance and Keith are leaders of their rivaling schools' gangs. They like to brawl it out from time to time, with their fists and with their mouths.
Relationships: Keith & Lance (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 175





	Madness

**Author's Note:**

> A drabble I wrote for my IG: VHMS0UL - Inspired by the song wih the same title by Silverstein (GIVE IT A LISTEN, IS GOOD)

The first punch jams into his rival’s face, an ongoing train of painful hisses and budging laughter echoing around the fight.   
  


Lance shakes the pain from his hand, trying his best not to feign any sign of weakness. He steps back, narrowing his eyes harshly feeling disappointed that his target didn’t even budge from that connecting blow.   
  


In front of him stands his rival, hunched over a cinch, sucking in a few beaten breaths as he wipes away the blood trickling down from the corner of his lip. His rival: Keith Kogane; leader of the notorious gang of delinquents at Galra High.   
  


_Lance’s_ rival.   
  


Both gangs circle the face-off between their leaders, urging for their own chance to fling in a hit or twenty. It's all very hair-rising and cut-throat; even if they are only 7 people dislodged at an abandoned skating park sheltered in colorful graffiti and street art.   
  


This is and will always be Lance's turf. Keith can go fuck himself and find somewhere else to hang.   
  


Lance is the leader of Altea High’s gang, Galra High’s rival school, so naturally the two leaders would become rivals of their own. Resulting in them having a face-off from time to time.   
  


Like every other day.   
  


“Heh, I'm impressed. You managed to land a little blow, McClain.” Keith remarks, staring at the blood on his fingers, a smirk crawling along his permanently bruised face.  
  


A lurch pulls in his gut. Lance can’t stand him. His spiteful demeanour, how he's always able to take on one of Lance's hits without doubling over, shrugging it off like lint on his shoulder.   
  


Ever since they butt heads on the train, as soon as their eyes mets, a spark ignited in both of them. Feeding an angry flame. Lance knew the moment he saw Keith, that he too loved to wreak havoc; but there’s only room for one gang in this town.   
  


So, they meet from time to time to blow it out, prove to each other they’re the worser gang. But, Lance can’t shake off how much he can’t stand the guy. With his many pairs of tight ripped jeans, unending stock of tattered red emo shirts. And he's _never_ seen without his ridiculous leather fingerless gloves, dude doesn’t even drive a motorcycle; he’s not even old enough to drive one yet.   
  


Oh, and that _mullet_ .   
  


Lance’s eyes flit to the mullet, studying it after the blow he landed and how it still curls perfectly along Keith’s exposed neck.   
  


How the fuck does he keep it so...bounced?  
  


Circling around Keith are his lackeys: Lotor, James and Acxa. Thank the devil he didn’t bring his older brother, Shiro. Lance, Pidge and Hunk would’ve been made into skidmarks on the tarmac had he been here to brawl it out.   
  


Pidge starts walking around Lance, their target steadfast on Acxa and James taking the cast iron pipe and slamming it a few times in their palm to taunt them. Hunk hangs on their tail, holding a box-end wrench like it’s on fire.   
  


The fight unfolds, Pidge and Hunk brawl it out with the lackeys.   
  


Fists fly everywhere, and blood paints the ground red. Even the clangs of their weapons when they meet the concrete walls and the ground doesn't stop them from fighting it out.  
  


As they continue, Lance is left alone. He sees James and Axca are turning breathless, Pidge and Hunk parrying and still trying to shove a fist or two in their faces.   
  


Lance smirks proudly at his gang, pulling his sleeves up in preparation. He has nothing in his hands except for remnants of Keith's blood. No need, his fists are more than enough.  
  


Directing his gaze away from the dispute, that only leaves Keith’s underling, Lotor. He’s new at Keith’s school, taken under the mullet’s wing to become the new leader when he graduates this year along with Lance. And Lance wants to prove that he’s better than any underling. Wiping him off the delinquent map is his first move, second will be mounting Keith’s sorry ass.   
  


Keith smirks at Lance, like the music coming from their gang's fighting delights him.   
  


Fuck him. Fuck him trying to tantalize Lance. He feels the blood inside him broil over when Keith’s mullet flips and shines under the setting sunlight. Just thinking about that stupid mullet has Lance sidestepping ready to land another blow on any one of these lackeys. But mostly Keith. Always Keith.  
  


“Yeah, well, you're gonna be more impressed when my fist fucks with pretty boy's face over there.” Lance clenches his fists, feels his nails biting into his skin.   
  


Mind running, his thoughts are going a mile a minute, his palms pulsing and fists curled ready for him to swing. Lance flashes past Keith and charges towards Lotor with a fist swung back and lands an unhinging hit on his jaw. Blood spurts from the bleached-blond asshole, and it feels so good Lance decides to kick him down to the ground while he’s in momentum, while his adrenaline hums in his veins for more.   
  


Jab after jab, Lotor’s face turns into pulp and becomes one with the ground, with a spill of crimson tracing the profile of his face.   
  


“How do you like that, Kogane?” Lance rubs his sore knuckles, licking away the blood from his split lip that Lotor was able to cleave in with his knucklebuster.  
  


Lance's eyes focus first on Lotor’s knocked-out state, pleased with his work, then sends them up to meet with a mordant glare that elicits in indigo.  
  


Another challenge sparks between them.   
  


Keith takes the handle of his baseball bat, flips it low in the air and catches it. He tugs a corner of his lip at Lance, looking predatory at him. “I’m _mildly_ impressed.” He says, voice raspy, challenging. “But, I’ll be _even_ more impressed if you’re able to catch me.”   
  


“Catch you?” Lance furrows his brows.   
  


Once the question enters the ring, Keith makes a run for it. Lance casts a look at Pidge and Hunk to stay behind and take care of the lackeys. They comply and he makes a dash after Keith.   
  


He sees a beam of red escaping into the town mall. Keith’s running up the escalator, shoving his way past the bystanders, craning his neck to stick his tongue out at Lance. That insolent, insufferable, ineffable- Lance follows suit, shoving and shouting for people to fucking move and make way.  
  


Then he sees Keith run into a long hallway, a door slamming shut. The restroom. “You can run, but you can’t hide, Kogane.” Lance mutters happily under his breath, opening the door.   
  


He starts kicking down stall after stall till he sees Keith casually hanging out in the last stall. “Took you long enough.” Keith murmurs, and drags Lance to him.   
  


Their mouths clash and battle away, lips pressing on and off all hot and heavy. “Fuck, the way you rearranged Lotor’s face.” Keith compliments, kissing Lance with more fervor now.  
  


“Mph, Keith, shut up. Lemme enjoy this while we can.” Lance says through panted breaths.   
  


Lance tears his way through Keith’s mouth, clutching his emo shirt and shoving him up against the wall, his lips never leaving Keith’s. He smells like a fight, it gives Lance the rush he needs, heat flaring like someone punched him square in the face.   
  


He licks Keith’s mouth, kisses his jaw and starts trailing his mouth down Keith's neck with more searing kisses. A moan erupts from Keith when Lance's teeth rake on his skin, his tongue feasting on the column of his neck.   
  


“This needs to go off.” Lance starts unbuttoning Keith’s tattered shirt, gets impatient by ripping the buttons off instead.  
  


Keith groans while Lance drags his shirt off of him. “That was my favorite shirt!" He whimpers, and Lance rolls his eyes behind closed lids.   
  


The boy has at least 50 more of the exact same shirt. He will not be missing this one.  
  


“Yeah, but then I couldn’t do this.” Lance sends Keith back against the wall, lifting his undershirt and tasting his stomach, hungry whimpers scavenging out of the both of them.   
  


The temperature in their proximity rises. Keith’s knees unbuckle once Lance's lips drag on his exposed, hot skin, and Lance knows that he’s so far gone, coming undone. With his hands roaming Keith’s bare arms, using them to keep balance, he starts to go down-all the way down, landing on his knees then unbuckles Keith’s jeans.   
  


“Fuck, Lance.” He moans, and Lance hums a _you're welcome_ through his full mouth.   
  


Keith slams a fist on the wall. Once, twice, starts rocking his hips and roots Lance’s hair with abusive fists. “Faster..” He utters, but the words hardly make it out of his throat before his whole body stiffens then goes lax.   
  


Pleased with himself, knowing-and will never admit-that he can’t win against Keith during a fist fight but can destroy him anytime when they make an escape, Lance drags himself up till he's face to face with his rival again, taking pleasure in Keith’s flushed, ruined expression.   
  


He can feel the heat radiating off of Keith, riding a flirty finger along his jaw, grabbing it and kissing him tenderly.   
  


“Fuck.” Keith says weakly, profoundly enjoying Lance's lips covering his own.  
  


“I know.” Lance says seductively. Brushing away a long, black bang and bruising him with another kiss.   
  


Keith’s breath slides out uneven, and Lance basks in it. He always has the upper hand when they do this together.  
  


“Lance, this is-” Keith starts to whisper, his lips asking for more, smacking it as small whimpers bubble out of him.  
  


Oh, he’s destroyed, unraveled. He's kissed him senseless, ripped him into pieces. It's all so dizzying that Lance wouldn't mind another go with his rival.   
  


"It’s what, babe?” His lips curl when the irises in Keith’s eyes bounce the moment they hit the dim lighting. Noticing his pupils are blown wide, his milky white cheeks displaying a red masterpiece, and he smells so good. Like sweat and flowers.   
  


“This is madness.” Keith enunciates. That brings a laugh out of Lance.  
  


Because he agrees.  
  


Yes. Yes it is.  
  


Their love for each other is madness; raw, unadulterated madness.  
  


Lance closes the space between them and grabs a nibble at Keith’s earlobe. “But don’t you love it?” He asks in lunacy.   
  


Their bodies push flushed together, Keith’s t-shirt ridden up revealing his stomach, Lance still pressed hotly against him. Lance cards his fingers through Keith’s unruly hair, breathing him in. They share one more kiss, both taking in a sharp intake of breath scared their lungs might collapse by the collision.   
  


“I hate you.” Keith mutters while biting at Lance’s nether lip.   
  


“I love you, too, boo.” Lance retorts and steals a sultry kiss from his boyfriend, passionately this time, before clutching his t-shirt and banging him hard against the wall, going back to being feral with him. 

***

“So when’s the next fight?” Keith asks, smearing ointment on Lance’s black eye then opening a small box.   
  


A hiss fights its way out through Lance's teeth when Keith slaps a band-aid on a bad-looking cut on his cheek. So much for hiding his weakness.  
  


Keith's hand lingers, pressing down gently before he cups Lance's cheek. Lance smiles, scooching closer to his boyfriend while they sit on the top of the skate ramp. He pulls Keith in between his legs, wrapping his arms around his neck. They’re face to face, legs strewn long on either side of their hips. He leans in, presses his lips to Keith’s, keeping them there a beat longer because he loves him a little too much.   
  


“I can’t wait for graduation.” Lance says as he pulls back, ignoring Keith’s question.   
  


In return, Keith graces Lance with a cute smile, looking constantly beat up and grizzled, slapping Lance's cheek lightly. “Me too. Now shut up about this graduation madness and kiss me again.”   
  


So, Lance does as instructed. He kisses his rival again.   
  


And again, and again, and again.   
  


Then, because he can't fucking stand him, he pushes his boyfriend and laughs at him hard while he's sliding down the skate ramp and flipping Lance the bird.


End file.
